Prelude
by LumBabsFan
Summary: The head servants raised their prince to become what he is, a spoiled, lonely boy, out of their disciplinary control. A three part tale of events leading to the one winter's night when an old beggar arrives on the castle doorstep.
1. Part I The Boy Prince

_A/N: First of all, let me say it's so awesome to be back and writing my next big project! This isn't going to be a massive story, but a nice little short one, a three part one shot if you will, so stay tuned! Also I must give the finest their credit where it is due. Firstly, letylyf for the French assistance, thanks so much! Secondly, Valerie (CrystalTear) for my own "fencing lessons!" LOL! Thanks! And most of all, Trudi! Her contributions to this story so far have been beyond my gratitude abilities. I can't express my thanks enough! She really helped me through some hard points. And now, enjoy Part I!_

_Prelude_

A Three Part One Shot by Faith Kelter

Beauty and the Beast © Walt Disney Company

_Part I – The Boy Prince…_

Sleep, something that few men, if any, have learned to harness and conquer. The sun had not even begun to shine its first light when Lumière felt the familiar sense of awakening. Blinking instinctively, he glanced at his window, groaning at the sight of lingering darkness, but as he closed his eyes again, he turned onto his back, frustrated, as his mind began to function normally, much to his dismay. He was too tired to think, but his mind was too persistent. Hence his thoughts drifted to where they often did lately, the past few years.

Just last week had everyone celebrated Vincent's ninth birthday. _Mon Dieu, nine years old already!_ Lumière thought, shaking his head in disbelief. How could years feel like mere months when minutes seemed like hours every day? It still felt as though it were only yesterday that the king's brother had denied custody of the young prince, leaving the servants of the castle to be his only family. As though Vincent were still the small babe lying in his bassinet every night crying fitfully at ungodly hours of the morning. Maybe that was why Lumière arose early every morning, he realized; it had become second nature.

The crying had not become a thing of the past, however, as everyone prayed it would. Often at night, even now, Vincent would fall into hysterical fits of tears for little or no reason. As a baby, it was one matter; for a nine-year-old, it was another. Many of the lower ranking servants who did not attend to the prince's every whim on a daily basis were constantly heard complaining about it. "A boy his age should know better!" they would say, but when those words were heard, Lumière, as well as Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts, paid them little heed aside from a scolding for their impudence. After all, Vincent was only a boy who, in a sense, was very alone in the world despite the numerous servants surrounding him.

A slender, familiar arm disturbed Lumière's reverie as it fell across his chest tiredly. Outside, the sun was at last beginning to peek over the horizon, and he turned his head slightly, using the tiny bit of light to adoringly gaze at its sleeping owner, his beloved Babette. Gently leaning towards her, Lumière caressed her forehead with a kiss, tenderly stroking her arm. She must have still been in a deep sleep, he decided, or else there would be a romantic response to such actions. Ah well, it had been a long night for both of them, and Lumière smiled dreamily at the memory. Babette was an incredibly ardent lover, just as he was. Unlike any of her predecessors that had graced his room with their presence, she was not coy or dainty (unless it was to her advantage, he thought with a smirk). She was his equal, matching him passion for passion.

After another moment, Lumière felt her begin to stir slightly, and he smiled as he buried soft kisses into her dark, silky hair, flowing loosely over the pillows as she had left it free from the usual nightly braid. He breathed deeply, taking in the scent of lavender, which always amused him. The fragrance was generally used when one needed to relax; yet coming from her, it was beyond exotic and thrilling.

"I know you are not asleep," he murmured, the warmth of his breath tickling her ear so much that she shrugged to calm the sensation before it dominated her.

Babette yawned sleepily, her eyes still closed. "Only half as such; your horrible snoring kept me awake most of the night…again."

Even though he knew she could not see it, Lumière gave her an indignant scowl. "I do not snore."

"Yes, you do," she argued lightly, not quite as willing to do so early in the morning. "Loudly and incessantly, all night long."

"Merci, Cogsworth," he teased, adding every ounce of sarcasm he could to his words. Babette, in response, at last opened her eyes to return his previous expression, but Lumière interrupted any unsaid words she may have been thinking with a smirk. "Besides, even if I did, I was certainly not going about it all night."

Just as it always did, the charming grin succeeded in lightening her mood, and Babette pressed heavily against him, being rewarded with a soft gasp of unexpected delight.

"You are right, of course," she agreed.

"When it comes to this," he growled desperately, holding her in place. "Neither of us is ever wrong."

"I was not finished," Babette said with a playful smile. She had so much more will power than he did, she mused inwardly before continuing. "You are right," she purred, "If I remember correctly…the majority of the evening, you lips were rather…preoccupied."

Without hesitation or protest, Babette readily succumbed to her lover's advances as Lumière, deeply sealing her in a kiss, loomed above her with burning desire. Then again, she could have said something as common as "Bonjour," and he would have done the same. So often, thank goodness, it was that simple.

As Lumière's hands roamed freely over his favorite places to explore, Babette reveled in the fire that was ignited inside her. Slowly, almost teasingly, he enveloped her in his embrace, and she found herself giggling softly at the thought. When people looked at Lumière, they would not believe that he was endowed with much strength. But in sweet, tantalizing moments such as this, Babette was willing to wager that he was stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

Holding her close, Lumière allowed his lips to savor the taste of her delectable neck, all the while encouraged by her words as she whispered her pleasant, scandalous promises in his ear. He could not control himself any longer, and it was clear that Babette was feeling the same way. He needed her, wanted her…had to take her…

If only it were not for those screams that were resounding through the foyer, tantrum-like, coming from the West Wing corridor.

"Oh non," Lumière groaned desperately, breaking their current kiss. Not now! "Oh, Dieu, non…"

"Oh oui," he heard Babette hiss from beneath him as she attempted to draw him back to her. "Mon bien-aimé, oui…"

As difficult and quite painful as it was, Lumière hastily pried himself from Babette's grasp and raced to change. The sounds from the foyer were growing louder by the second, and as she began to acknowledge them as well, Babette moaned from her tangled position amongst the bed cloths.

"Oh mon Dieu, tais-toi!" she growled.

Lumière turned to look at her puzzled as he buckled his belt. "I did not say anything," he replied.

"I did not mean you; I meant him," she sighed, offering a smile. "Trust me, Lumière; I would never dream of asking you to do anything that would involve closing your mouth."

Lumière closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath and still trying to subside his evident remaining desire. "Babette, you are teasing unfairly!"

"And the child is not?" she asked, absently allowing the blanket to lower slightly. "Every time we have a moment to ourselves, he starts his little tantrums; I can hardly believe that last night happened in the first place! Thankfully, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts were kind enough to take their evening turns with him!"

"Cogsworth, I could not care less about, but we owe Mrs. Potts our thanks," Lumière said, fastening the last button on his coat. "I must help her calm him as I am sure she is there at this moment."

Babette pouted, folding her arms in annoyance. "I would like to help calm him, all right," she grumbled. "If only I was not a maid, I would jump at the chance to silence the little brat myself."

Lumière sighed with a smile and sat beside her, fully dressed to perfection. Gently caressing her cheek, he said, "This is not over, comprends? Not a day goes by in which I do not want you, ma chérie, I swear, and with such a lovely 'bon matin', my need has grown considerably."

Babette smirked, unable to resist. "I could see that before, still can."

Lumière gulped painfully. "You are a cruel temptress," he replied hoarsely, gathering her hands to shower them with kisses. "I promise, we will finish what we started."

"When?"

"Later."

"But when later?"

"Soon," he emphasized. "As soon as possible."

Babette pouted pleadingly, but frowned defeated when he appeared steadfast in his decision. "If we must wait, then so be it," she mumbled resentfully.

Lumière smiled gratefully. "That's my girl; I love you so much," he said, kissing her long and full one last time before he rose to leave. "Breakfast should be early this morning; I guarantee you, he will be up and about now. Please, get dressed and I will see you in the kitchen."

Babette gasped, wounded, as he left. Never had he said anything so disgraceful to her as "Please, get dressed." Rising to do so, however, she was determined to give him a proper scolding later.

ooo

"Shall I just stand outside your bedroom door to make certain you come the moment we need you?"

Had Lumière needed assistance in ridding himself of any lingering romantic memories, Cogsworth's suggestion would have been sufficient. As he walked up the West Wing staircase, he found said head of the household waiting, an ever-present scowl upon his round face.

"If you step anywhere near my room, I might as well be ordained a priest," Lumière countered nonchalantly before he changed the subject to the true matters at hand. "What is the problem this time?"

Cogsworth shook his head, for once in his hardworking life looking rather fatigued. "I haven't the faintest idea really. Mrs. Potts was inside before, but she has enough to worry about with her own child. When I came to take her place in speaking to his highness, I discovered that the boy knows how to keep us out of his room."

Lumière could not help but snort a laugh. "He locked you out?"

Cogsworth glared at him. "Locked us _both_ out, you mean."

Lumière simply drew a lock pick from his coat pocket; he always kept one at hand in case something happened to the wine cellar keys. Kneeling down at level with the lock, he worked at it for a few minutes before it clicked open.

Turning a victorious smirk on Cogsworth, Lumière rose to tower over his short companion once more. "Go back to bed, Cogsworth," he said. "It is too early to be awake, even for you. I will take over from here."

As Cogsworth stormed away muttering to himself, Lumière laughed gently; that was after all the closest thing to a thank you that he would receive.

Opening the door, however, he prepared himself for the battle ahead; Vincent was never an easy child to deal with. The scene was horrific indeed. A red-eyed, seething young prince frowned as Lumière entered, seated on his bed. In the middle of the floor there were scattered a few broken toys, wildly tossed bed cloths, and the walls were full of scratches and marks.

"What are you doing here?" Vincent snarled.

"Well for one thing," Lumière started. "Imagining how many unhappy faces I am going to see today after finding your room like this."

Vincent's frown grew into a menacing grimace. "What do I care? It's their job to clean it, not mine. I'm their prince, in case they forgot, and what I say goes." Vincent looked at him challengingly. "In fact…_you_ clean it up. That's an _order_."

Lumière gritted his teeth. If Vincent had been his own child, he would have turned him over his knee long ago. It would have done the lad a world of good, he knew. But the unfortunate truth was that as royalty, Vincent did have every right to command his servants. The common credo of "children should be seen and not heard" was impossible to enforce in Vincent's case.

"As you wish, sire," Lumière said mildly, striving to appear unruffled, and began straightening the bedclothes and putting away the toys.

Vincent watched him, looking almost disappointed at the lack of reaction. There was silence for a few moments. Then Vincent said defensively, "Anyway, what does it matter if servants have extra work to do? They do not care about me; why should I care about them?"

"Now, now," Lumière admonished. "You know that is not true! We all care about you a great deal. That is why we all do our best to take such good care of you."

Vincent snorted. "You take care of me because you're paid and ordered to do it. You'd all leave tomorrow if you could." He folded his arms and stared challengingly at Lumière once again.

Lumière was startled. He stopped tidying and sat down on the bed next to Vincent. "That is not true. What on earth is suddenly giving you such silly ideas?"

Vincent looked away, not meeting his gaze.

"Vincent?" Lumière said softly. He rarely took the liberty of using the prince's given name, but in a moment such as this, it somehow felt like the right thing to do. "Tell me what is troubling you."

Vincent looked up at him, suddenly looking not like an arrogant prince, but like the little boy he really was. "I heard one of the girls talking," he mumbled.

"Who?" Lumière asked in concern.

"One of the scrubbing girls," Vincent answered bitterly. "Veronique."

"And what did she say?"

"She was very nice to me before when she would take care of me. I thought she liked me. She would sneak sweets out of the kitchen for me after lunch, and then she would tell me to go play while she finished her work. But yesterday, I forgot one of my toys so I ran back to get it, and I heard her say…"

Vincent trailed off quietly, his expression gradually turning angry rather than upset. "She said that if the wages were not worth the time she had to spend with 'that little monster', she would leave the castle."

"Veronique," Lumière repeated angrily. "I will have a word with her."

Vincent shrugged, his face now a mask of indifference. "It matters not. She is only a servant. They are all the same, and not worth my time or my interest." He stood up and walked to the window, as though bored with the discussion.

Lumière watched him, feeling compassion for the orphaned boy. "Listen to me," he said earnestly. "You must believe me when I tell you that most of us here truly do care about you. A great deal, in fact. And know this: we are not going to abandon you, Vincent. Not now. Not ever. You need to know that."

The young prince glanced at him hesitantly. Lumière held his gaze. Vincent nodded and said quietly, "All right. If you say so."

It was not the most reassuring response, but Lumière knew it was the closest he would get. Unless…

Lumière smirked, as if he knew the secret to end all the pain in the universe. "Say now, I think I know just the thing to make you feel better, guaranteed."

"What?" Vincent asked curiously.

"I believe I have been promising you fencing lessons for quite some time now, oui?"

The boy's eyes seemed to light up in a matter of seconds. "Yes! We can start them today!"

"Yes, today after your lessons; no sooner, no later," Lumière agreed. "You have my word."

The young prince gave an enthusiastic holler as he ran for his door, most likely to share his wonderful news, and Lumière followed not too far behind. Once again, he was a proud man, his quick thinking saving the day.

ooo

"Lumière!" Cogsworth called, irritated. Where was that bumbling fool when he needed to give him a good couple of smacks upside the head? "Lumière, for heaven's sake, you will be the death of me! Where are you?"

"You truly think you will find him by shouting like that?" a female voice asked, and Cogsworth rolled his eyes as he turned to discover Babette.

"Not everyone is fortunate enough to have the…the uh…" Cogsworth blushed a bright shade of red as he realized what he was about to say. As he gestured to her figure, Babette could hardly contain a smile. At last, he concluded, "The…façade, if you will, to attract him like you do. It is not as easy for the rest of us."

"Maybe not," Babette agreed. "But, really, for an educated man, you have yet to figure out that no one answers to your constantly annoying shouts. Lighten up a little!"

Cogsworth frowned. "You would not happen to know where he is to make my life easier now, would you? Of all people, I should have asked you in the first place."

Babette thought for a moment before she replied, "Last I heard, he was in the ballroom. Why?"

"Well, why couldn't you have just said that to begin with?" Cogsworth asked, frustration abundant in his words as he headed for said destination with Babette in tow.

"You did not ask until now," she said with a shrug. Cogsworth only halted to glare at her impatiently. Babette could be as infuriating as Lumière when she wanted to be; they were perfectly suited for each other, of that he was certain.

Upon reaching the ballroom, they found Lumière inside, already practicing his technique as he waited for his pupil. While Cogsworth immediately stormed his way over to him, Babette held her ground for a moment to watch this new, extremely attractive athletic side of her lover before joining him.

"What in the world do you think you are doing?" Cogsworth shouted angrily.

Removing his mask, Lumière answered breathlessly, "Warming up, of course; what does it look like?"

Babette stepped forward to spare Lumière another moment of Cogsworth's wrath. "Warming up, indeed," she said with mischievous concern. Stroking his forehead, she added, "You feel like you are running a fever."

Lumière slid his arm around her waist to draw her close. "That is not from practice, ma puce," he whispered for her ears only before placing a surprisingly chaste kiss on her cheek.

"All right, enough rubbish, both of you!" Cogsworth sighed, rolling his eyes. "This is urgent!"

"When is it not urgent with you?" Lumière asked.

Cogsworth glowered at him, ignoring the comment to continue. "What could have possessed you to offer the prince fencing lessons to begin with? And in the ballroom no less?"

"He is old enough now to learn the basics," Lumière replied. "And this is the most spacious room in the castle."

"It is the most destructive, hazardous kind of sport, you fool! He is only a boy!"

"Oui, and he is a royal! Royalty and nobility have been learning the art of fencing for years! I learned by watching my former employer, and he learned when he was the prince's age."

"Oh, that is promising!" Cogsworth scoffed. "The instructor has only learned by watching!"

Lumière stared at him indignantly. "You really believe that I would intentionally offer to teach him something I knew nothing about? Really, you know me better than that."

"Fine, you are capable of teaching him; that is all well and good! But he is a _child_," Cogsworth countered, trying to remain rational. "No matter how well you teach, at one point or another, he will get hurt, and then what will happen?"

"We will take care of it."

"We prevent it from even happening so as not to lose our heads for foolishness!"

Vincent entered the room moments later, ending their discussion rather abruptly. At the sight of unexpected company in the room, his face fell, especially seeing that one of them was Cogsworth.

"Lumière, what is going on?" he asked.

Before Lumière could reply, however, Cogsworth beat him to an explanation. "Your highness, if I may speak openly?" Vincent's young brow furrowed with impatience, but he nodded for Cogsworth to continue.

"Sire, I must protest this," Cogsworth insisted. "This preposterous game is far too unsafe for me to allow."

"For _you_ to allow?" Vincent said quietly, dangerously. "Since when do I need _your_ permission?"

Cogsworth instantly began to fumble over his own words. "Allow? Did I say allow?" he laughed nervously. "Of course, you would not have to ask me for permission, master! Not at all! I was merely trying to say…uh…that I am only looking out for your best interest."

"My best interest is what _I_ choose to do, not what a _servant_ chooses for me!" Vincent shouted, his temper officially lost. "Now are you going to stop meddling in affairs that don't concern you, or does time in the dungeons sound better?"

"Master, please!" Lumière interrupted hastily. There was no need for another tantrum right now, especially since this entire lesson was meant as a distraction from them. "Forgive my saying so, but if we do not begin this minute, there will not be enough time to learn at all."

Vincent gritted his teeth as he took a deep breath, all the while glaring menacingly at Cogsworth, before stomping his way towards the lane that Lumière had set up, the Frenchman himself in tow. Cogsworth, in the meantime, sat to the side, chastised and embarrassed. Scolded by a mere child, but a child that held their very lives in his hand; it was not an easy situation for any of them.

Only the realization that Babette had sat beside him brought Cogsworth out of any thoughts of his humiliation, and he frowned at her presence.

"You do know that you have your own work to attend to," he reminded her. "You should be returning to it."

"And pass up the opportunity to watch Lumière teach a child how to fence?" she asked softly. "Never in a million years! This is too good an event to decline an invitation to!"

"You were not invited," Cogsworth replied pointedly.

Babette grinned. "Neither were you, so we are even."

Returning her gaze to the lessons, she tried to lighten the mood; Cogsworth was a difficult man but even he needed cheering up sometimes.

"One week's pay says Lumière gives up hopelessly by dinner," she offered.

Cogsworth looked repulsed at the very thought. "I think not!" After another moment's consideration, he added, "One hour at most."

Babette smiled heartily. "You have a bet, monsieur."

Sure enough, an hour did pass and Cogsworth's end of the bet was a lost cause. For the rest of the afternoon, the two watched as Lumière patiently taught Vincent everything he could, taking into account that the boy was a beginner. Rules, correct posture, foot movement, and technique, the introductory lot.

Surprisingly, Vincent was quite well behaved, except for a few temperamental times when certain aspects became far too frustrating and difficult, but overall, he proved to be a very diligent student. Despite his constant spoiled mannerisms, he was a very intelligent child. That had always been one of his few positive attributes. Whenever the boy wanted to learn, truly and wholeheartedly, he focused as much as he could to get it right, and by the end of the day's lesson, Lumière and their audience were quite impressed.

"Your highness, I do not doubt that someday, you will be one of the most distinguished fencing masters of your time," Lumière said. "You have learned more in one day than most men do in months!"

Vincent glowed proudly at his praise. "I will be, I know, and someday soon!"

Lumière smiled. "Indeed, very soon at this rate; well done."

"I must agree, master," Cogsworth added as he and Babette rose to join them. "For a lad your age, that was sheer brilliance!"

Lumière and Babette shared a subtle eye roll while Vincent nodded.

"Next time, maybe you will think before going against me, won't you?"

"Oh most definitely, sire, absolutely!" Cogsworth checked his pocket watch before he added, "But right now, I am certain that even you would agree that the lessons must come to an end. It is almost time for dinner; we must not be late."

"Good because I'm starved!" Vincent announced, bolting for the door.

"And that goes for you two as well," Cogsworth said, turning to Lumière and Babette before he began to follow Vincent through the door. He only stopped when Babette called him.

"Oh Cogsworth!" she said with a smirk. "Be a gentleman, and do not forget our bet!"

Lumière glanced at her, puzzled, while Cogsworth merely exited with a frown.

"Bet?" Lumière asked.

"Oui, a bet, but do not worry yourself about it," Babette said reassuringly, walking over to the swords and picking one up to look it over curiously. Not bothering to avert her eyes from exploration of the blade, she commented, "Neither of us ever realized that you were so fast on your feet, that's all."

Lumière raised an eyebrow. "How many times have I raced to your side whenever you have called for me?"

Babette shrugged casually. "I have never actually seen you run; just turned and voila, there you were."

"I rest my case," Lumière laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "Admit it, I am simply so fast that I just appear out of thin air."

Babette leaned against him, gazing at him adoringly. "You are something magical; I will say that much for you," she replied, tilting her head invitingly for a kiss.

Lumière was all too willing to accept, but only until he realized that she still held the sword in her hand.

"Easy with that, ma chérie," he warned. "They may not be sharp, but they will certainly take out an eye without a mask on."

"You are the great fencing instructor, if I recall!" she laughed playfully. "Instruct me on what I must do to not let that happen."

Lumière smirked. "Well, first of all, your posture is absolutely appalling," he said, placing his hand in front of her slim waist and pressing her against him to make her stand straight. "Secondly, you will hardly score points if you can not even hold the sword out in front of you."

Slowly, he caressed her arm in possession of the sword until she held it out straight in front of her.

"And how do I get points again?" she asked with a sigh, obviously enjoying the attention.

"Two ways, ma petite chatte," he replied. "You may either strike your opponent here." His hand glided across shoulder, before making its seductive way to her neckline. "Or here."

Babette closed her eyes, gasping gently. "Lumière?"

"Hmm?"

"Your room again tonight?"

Lumière smiled charmingly and with promise. "Of course, we shall continue the lessons there. In the meantime, it is time for dinner."


	2. Part II Intensity

_A/N: To all those who reviewed, my gratitude! Right now I have to rush to work so just a quick note: The Cinderella bit is courtesy of the site (I think that's how it's spelled; apologies if not!). And also, my gratitude to Trudi for putting up with my agonizing whining; girl, bless you for that! Now enjoy Part II!_

Part II – Intensity…

"'_She was c-c-_…"

"Conducted," Lumière muttered helpfully.

Over the course of the years, Lumière had succeeded in finding one foolproof way to secure time alone with Babette with the certainty of no one interfering: by teaching her how to read. The poor girl had never learned, as it was not necessary considering her station in life, but now, it not only gave them something to do together, but also benefited her. Even if she never picked up another book again once she learned, she would at least have the ability to get information if she needed it.

That was where they could be found one summer afternoon, comfortably sitting on the library chaise about to reach the conclusion of _Cendrillon _(_Cinderella_). Lumière had humorously suggested it as Babette could "truly relate to a story about a maid." After scolding him, Babette agreed to it.

"'…_conducted to the young prince dressed as she was,_'" Babette continued slowly, still having some difficulty being a beginner. "'_He thought her more…charming than ever, and after a few days, he married her._'" She paused to laugh mockingly, and said sarcastically under her breath, "Indeed, dressed as a servant, I am sure he did."

Lumière sighed. "Are you going to comment or continue?"

"Both," she answered with a playful grin.

"Well, at least finish the passage first; there is only a little left."

Babette pouted, glancing at the book again. "'_Cendrillon, who was no less good than b-beau-ti-ful, gave her two sisters…l-lodge…_'"

"Lodgings. It means 'a home,'" Lumière explained patiently.

"Why couldn't they just say that?" Babette growled, exasperated, before she finished. "'_…lodgings in the palace, and that very day, matched them with two lords of court._'"

"Where, of course, they all lived happily ever after," Lumière concluded with the famous final line.

Babette rolled her eyes. "Tell me something that I have not heard," she groaned. "As if that is not said enough with such stories."

"We hear it because it is the truth."

"This is a fairy tale," she said pointedly. "Like the creatures they were named after, they do not exist; this never happened."

Lumière shrugged. "In this case, I disagree."

"How?" Babette asked. "No lowly servant girl can manage what she did: work her entire life and then move to a palace for romance's sake."

Lumière tightened his embrace around his lover as Babette put the book down to enjoy the warm, wonderful feeling of being in his arms.

"But you yourself did that very same thing, non?" he said. "Found happiness and love in a magnificent castle?"

"That was different," Babette mischievously contradicted. "She became a princess. I still have to work around here, and the prince is far too young for me. Therefore, I got saddled with you."

"You little wench, do not do me any favors," Lumière laughed, before drawing her lips to his own.

"For that response," she purred, "I shall have to tease more often."

"Bon, my very heart beats for your teases."

Babette ran her finger lightly over his lips. "I will remember that." She grinned flirtatiously. "For now, how about continuing that kiss…?"

"Say no more," Lumière conceded willingly with a smirk before obliging her request.

"Ahem!"

A voice from the doorway interrupted them moments later, forcing them to hastily part. Lumière's face suddenly took on a look of horrified realization as his eyes met Vincent's. The young prince, now a lad of fifteen years, sent a cold glare blazing at his servant, a look that had greatly intensified with age and could strike fear into the bravest men.

"I have been calling for the past quarter of an hour!" the prince shouted, as usual not hiding any of his anger. "I should not have to hunt you down whenever I need you to do something!"

"Begging your highness' pardon," Lumière replied, "I did not realize that there was anything else to be done before we left for la Celebration."

La Celebration d'Été, a meeting of royals and nobles annually at the end of every summer to wine, dine, and do whatever else they chose. In actuality, everyone knew it was a small excuse with little purpose to glorify themselves in front of their peers. There was very little to celebrate, but nonetheless, in their eyes, it was the most important gathering of the year.

Vincent, as expected, did not accept the plea. "Perhaps, you could have paid more attention if you were not so self-centered to think of your own worthless pleasure!"

Babette could hardly uphold a calm, collected appearance. The Prince of Selfishness accusing Lumière of being self-centered? That was certainly the pot calling the kettle black, she thought bitterly.

But at the word 'pleasure', she noticed Vincent eyeing her for a long moment, too long if she had any say, and Babette shifted uncomfortably under his stare. Even for a young man, Vincent was, in her opinion, already well skilled in the art of leering. She swore she could see his eyes drifting between her face and…rather unmentionable places.

Thankfully, Lumière spoke up once again, drawing Vincent's attention back to him. "What does your highness require then? As I said, everything is in order. The carriage is ready to leave, you yourself are dressed to perfection to be the envy…"

"On the contrary," Vincent interrupted, gesturing to his coat. "Everyone knows that I despise this wretched rag! I have chosen a more suitable coat from the wardrobe upstairs, which may I remind you is not my job to do, and it needs to be pressed."

"Pressed? Master, that could take another twenty minutes, at least!" Lumière protested. "Right now, we are completely on schedule; if we have to prepare another coat, we will be beyond fashionably late!"

"Then you should have thought of that before lazing about, shouldn't you?" Vincent growled. "You have no decision as to whether or not you will obey my orders; you will do as I ask. The new coat, pressed and ready, now."

Lumière sighed submissively. "Of course, master; I do not know what I was thinking."

"Of course you don't," Vincent replied curtly, removing the hated coat and letting it fall to the floor in a manner of authority and protest. Keeping any resentment in check, Lumière slowly moved to pick it up; as he did, Vincent spoke again, threateningly.

"This is not the first time this has happened, Lumière," he said. "It is your duty to attend to me the moment I call you; you should always be nearby in case I need anything. See to it that this is the last time you defy me, or else I assure you, your dismissal shall be ordered."

"As you wish, master," Lumière answered quietly.

Satisfied with the response, Vincent left the room as Lumière let out a relieved breath. As Babette followed wordlessly, he looked at her puzzled as they made their way to the West Wing.

"Why are you so silent?" Lumière asked, concerned.

Babette did not answer right away. Her worries that had needed confirmation had at last been obliged. That look on Vincent's face had proved them to be true, and she lowered her eyes, uncomfortable even thinking about it. It was the one look she had wished to leave behind from her days at _Le Fleur Noir_. Admiration was one thing; lust was another.

"He has the eye for me," she muttered quietly.

"The eye? What are you talking about?"

"Lumière, I am not blind and dumb," she said firmly. "I have seen the way he looks at me lately; I know what he is thinking and what he wants. He is fifteen years old, at last a man and aware of exactly 'what a woman is for.' Even more than that, he is a royal! Royals will take any woman they choose, especially in their homes where no one can stop them!"

Lumière immediately drew her close, and she accepted his embrace without hesitation. On the majority of occasions when Babette brought a man's glancing at her to his attention, Lumière knew it was mainly to tease and play like they always did. But at that moment, there was no mistaking the unsettled, almost frightened tone in her voice.

"I will speak with him," he said soothingly. "Do not worry, ma chérie; nothing will happen to you."

Babette sighed, wiping her misty eyes; she hated showing weakness by crying. "I can take care of myself, I know, but if I turn him away…oh Dieu, Lumière, he will have no doubts about dismissing me or worse! Then what will I do?"

"I said I would talk to him," Lumière repeated, kissing her cheek tenderly. "Our talks have succeeded in calming him or changing his mind in the past; I am sure one will not fail me now."

Babette nodded as she pulled away, but she allowed her hands to linger in his momentarily. "You better hurry before he starts planning your imprisonment for disobeying commands."

"As long as I know you will visit me, I am not afraid," Lumière said with a smile, victorious in his attempt to make her do so as well. "Now relax, and I will see you tonight, I swear it. Pick a new story if you would like; titles are not as difficult to read as the tale itself."

Babette gave him a playful slap in the arm, grinning, before she released him to his obligations. Turning her attention to the shelves, she was determined to ease her tension for now. Lumière would not let her down.

ooo

As it always was, the gala was a success, enjoyed by all. The men mingled amongst their own social ranks while their wives (and servants) gathered to discuss the latest gossip.

At first, Vincent hated attending these pointless events. In years past, he had been too young to understand being there "for appearance's sake," and moreover, any event that his uncle attended was one to stay as far away from as possible. He blamed that cursed man for every nightmare that had plagued his slumber as a child. Auguste clearly and outwardly despised his nephew, accusing the boy of being the cause of his parents' death, and Vincent did not have any doubts about returning the feeling.

In later years, however, much to the dismay of Vincent's servants, he passed the time by finding acquaintances his own age to make the celebration worth a visit: Claude, son of the Marquis de Sauvignon and Guilliame, son of the Comte de Margue. Two boys who, like Vincent, took extreme measures and threats to get their "rightful" ways.

Not too far from where the trio was presently gathered, but unfortunately out of hearing range, Lumière watched in disapproval as they eyed and inappropriately taunted a servant girl who must have been ordered to fetch her mistress some refreshments. One thing was for certain, Lumière decided; Vincent was definitely in need of a talk. Royalty be damned; treating any young lady who caught his eye like that, be they servant or royal, would not be tolerated. And who knew? Maybe with a bit of luck, this talk might just teach the prince a little more respect for all people; if anything, it was worth a try.

Meanwhile, as the girl stepped away, blushing furiously at what had been said to her, the boys turned amongst themselves once more, laughing.

"Figures, never one to admit how much she loves the attention," Claude said.

Guilliame added, "None of them ever will; such is the way of a woman."

Vincent smirked smugly. "Of course not, they must keep their precious 'virtue' intact."

"Virtue, yes, I'm sure," Claude laughed. "If only all of them could be more like that one maid we have heard about that works for you."

"Which one?" Vincent asked curiously.

"You mean to tell us that you do not know about Babette?" Guilliame laughed, but at Vincent's infamous glare, he calmed himself. "Everyone knows about her; she was not born and bred a servant."

"Really?" Vincent asked, his interest growing with his companion's every word. "Pray, go on."

"Ever hear of that Parisian dance hall, _Le Fleur Noir_?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Well…I heard my father talking about her after our last visit. She was a showgirl there, years ago; every man in society had seen her in their day. No one knows why she became a maid though."

"But who would care?" Claude scoffed. "A former show girl - we all know what _that_ really means."

Vincent remained silent in thought, taking in every word that had been said. For the past year, he had begun to realize that women actually had an important, gratifying purpose, and the one that had caught his attention was Babette. Despite the fact that she was a good few years his senior, she was admittedly an incredibly attractive woman.

Why had he never been told about her past? Lumière, of all people, could have told him that…

But he obviously dared to keep the best for himself, Vincent thought with a scowl. The two were constantly together for as long as Vincent could remember, and his expression darkened as he recalled how he had found them in the library earlier. A meager, unworthy servant had the finest pick of the litter, leaving his prince to fend for himself with a less than perfect selection of females.

Seeing that he would talk very little for the remainder of the gala, Claude and Guilliame left Vincent to keep to himself, which did not arouse suspicion from them, or anyone for that matter. Vincent was often silent when he was not carousing with his peers. The next time he spoke was when the gala drew to a close, immediately sending Lumière to see that his carriage was prepared. The sooner they were home…the better.

ooo

"That will be all, Lumière; leave me," Vincent commanded as he shrugged into the housecoat that Lumière held for him.

As the prince lazily sat in a chair, Lumière could not help but notice the expression of deep thought that had taken over the boy's features. Often making an appearance during his daily schooling, a look of that sort meant that Vincent was in the middle of a passing daydream. But this time, it was as if he was plotting, and Lumière could not help feeling ill at ease at the sight.

"Are you positively certain, master?" he asked. "You do not need anything else?"

Vincent broke from his sudden reverie to scowl at Lumière impatiently. "You are already walking on thin ice today; if I were you, I would tread very carefully. I _said_ that will be all, do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Lumière replied. "But you seemed as though something was bothering you; I thought I would try to help."

"You thought wrong," Vincent said sharply. "Now leave me. I am sure you have some little tramp waiting somewhere for you; must not keep her waiting."

Lumière had to literally swallow the words that dangerously threatened to escape from his lips and would most likely have him executed should they be said. Taking a deep, calming breath, he nodded as he walked to the door, deciding on the safe reply, "Bonsoir, master; pleasant dreams."

When he was certain that Lumière was gone, Vincent glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Quarter past nine, it read. From what little knowledge he had regarding his servants, one thing he was certain of was that their work was not complete until about ten o'clock or later. Perfect!

Silently, Vincent made his way down the grand staircase of the West Wing. As he passed each room in the various, massive hallways, he glanced inside every one long enough to search for any sign of life within, but each proved to be a failure. But then, as he approached the foyer, he heard a soft, yet distinct humming sound coming from one of the twin sitting rooms. Peeking through the partially opened door, he grinned in satisfaction upon finding Babette.

Greeted by her back, and certainly not minding the view, Vincent slipped inside the sitting room, gently closing the door so as not to make a sound. Thankful to have located his quarry, he watched intrigued as she polished some fragile knick-knacks, noticing how her skillful hands completed the task. How much experience she must have had with them in much more pleasurable situations for a mere polishing to be so simple! This was going to be glorious!

When she was finished, Babette nodded, satisfied with her work, but as she turned to leave, she halted with a gasp, startled suddenly by Vincent's unexpected presence.

"M-master," she stuttered, attempting a smile. "To what d-do I owe the honor of your…company? It is quite late, you know."

Vincent, without a response, slowly moved towards her with an air of dominance and power. As he held her gaze, Babette mimicked his every step in retreat, feeling as helpless as the prey of a ravenous beast. For a young man his age, Vincent was intimidating in stature, towering a good foot or two over her.

Loosing her footing, Babette stumbled backwards onto the chaise, but before she could stand again, Vincent sat beside her, clasping her wrists and staring at her with obvious desire. When he lifted her hands to his lips, she managed to free them from his grasp.

"Master, forgive me," she said, looking fearfully into his merciless eyes. "But I beg you, with every ounce of sincerity, do not do that."

Ignoring her plea, Vincent affectionately reached to stroke her cheek. "Do not play coy with me. I know the truth now, what you really are. There is no need to tease, at least...not in an innocent manner."

"The truth? I do not understand what you mean," Babette said, trying to back away from his touch, but not getting far as she felt the arm of the chaise against her backside. She was as powerless as a caged animal.

"Your past at _Le Fleur Noir_, of course," Vincent replied, his voice beginning to quiver excitedly. In exploration, he led his trembling hand to trace the low collar of her dress, caressing her womanly blessings with delightful surprise. He had never touched a woman so intimately before, and he had honestly never expected one to be as soft as she was.

"Your days as a famous show girl will certainly help us tonight," he whispered. "Instruct me in the ways of love, and I will be your willing student."

Recovering from her stunned state of mind when he leaned forward to steal an unwelcome kiss, Babette hastily pried herself away, but Vincent would not allow her to escape so easily. Just as quickly, he followed, gripping her shoulders so tightly that she yelped in pain.

"Master, please!" Babette cried on the verge of tears, desperately searching for any proper yet unyielding way to refuse him. The word "no" did not exist in Vincent's vocabulary; she almost expected him to not even know what it meant. "You do not know what you are saying."

In reply, Vincent could only laugh in amusement; clearly this stupid girl thought she had a say in the matter. Almost pitying her lack of common sense, he roughly took the liberty of claiming his previously denied kiss.

It was at that very moment that Babette felt something snap inside of her. In her mind, he was no longer a prince, nor her master, but a deadly threat. Without hesitation, she called upon all her strength to brutally shove him away from her, but the action only earned her a strong, callous slap that sent her plummeting to the ground. Through a flood of tears, she shrieked in alarm, terrified as Vincent loomed over her and covered her mouth.

"You little slut," he snarled, narrowing his glare ominously upon her and tightening his hold. "It is _you_ who do not know what you are saying. _I _am the master of this castle; you live to serve _me_ and obey _my_ demands. You will do as I say; that is my order."

Struggling, Babette closed her eyes tightly, but it did not help. For what seemed like an eternity, she felt him reaching for the ties of her dress…but stopped when his attempts suddenly ceased. Feeling someone try to help her stand instead, she was relieved to see Mrs. Potts there with her, holding her comfortingly as a mother would to a child who had just awoken after a horrific nightmare. Bawling, Babette hid her face in the older woman's shoulder.

But fear once again rose as she heard Vincent screaming angrily, "What the hell do you think you are doing! How dare you!"

When Babette dared to look, she watched nervously as she saw Lumière literally dragging a thrashing Vincent out of the room. Continuing to let her tears flow, she prayed there would still be a happy ending in sight after what she knew was to come.

ooo

Only when he succeeded in bringing Vincent into another room did Lumière release him. While he turned to close the door, the prince continued his protests.

"You had no right to do that!" he shouted. "Where could you possibly find such insolent nerve to do what you did?"

Lumière turned to face him, inwardly beating himself for what he was about to say, but suppressing that fear from rearing its head.

"Forgive me, master, but I must ask you the same question," he answered calmly.

Vincent stared at him in disbelief. "What…did you say?"

"I ask you the exact same question," Lumière repeated. "What were you thinking?"

Vincent could not help but laugh slightly; this had to be a jest. "Are you truly so moronically stupid? I can do what I please with a woman."

"No, you can not."

The prince's eyes began to narrow once again, his heated laughter cooling very quickly. "Excuse me? I very well can!"

"No, you can not!" Lumière shouted. That was the final straw. "She is a living, breathing human being; a servant or not, you can not treat her like a common…thing!"

Vincent glared dangerously at him, his expression provoking Lumière into digging a deeper grave as he made his way towards him.

"You impudent little imbecile, you truly forget who you are speaking to, haven't you?" he asked. "This would not matter so much if she was not your precious whore now, would it?"

Lumière sighed in exasperation. "First of all, when talking about a lady, you show her respect. Secondly, yes, I love her, but this is not about that! Do you realize the danger you put her in?" He paused to take a deep breath and choose his words wisely. "What you were about to do…plainly and simply, it was wrong. Love is not a game!"

"I do not have time for your useless rambling," Vincent snarled, averting his eyes. "Surely some time in the dungeons would put a stop to this nonsense."

"Please, master, hear me out," Lumière pleaded. "There is more to what you were about to do then you know, too many risks involved. You truly were about to hurt her!"

"She must obey me!"

"And for that, you would risk causing her harm?" Lumière asked, softening his tone, attempting to make Vincent do the same by example. "Master, please, think about it. What you were about to do is supposed to be the most incredible thing that occurs between a man and woman; if you were hurting her, and she did not want it, how could it be as such? Servant and master aside, what happened was wrong; even you must know that."

Vincent looked at him again, begrudgingly. "Even…even if it was, that does not excuse how either of you have treated me. She is not worth this much trouble." Face to face with his servant, he stated, "Forget about any of your afternoons off for the next few weeks; I assure you, there will be something for you to do for both of you. This will teach you both to defy me."

Lumière released a slight sigh of relief; that was a punishment nonetheless, but it was certainly much better than anything he had feared. "So be it, master."

Vincent did not reply, however, as he stormed his way back to the West Wing. Lumière on the other hand returned to the sitting room. No sooner than he made his presence known, however, than Babette looked up and ran into his willing arms. As Mrs. Potts left the room, he mouthed a heartfelt "Merci" for her help, and she smiled in return.

For a long while, all Lumière could do was tenderly caress his lover soothingly, desperately trying to calm her down. When the sobs began to subside, he spoke softly.

"Shh," he whispered. "It is over now; he will not hurt you anymore."

"You can not promise that, so do not even try," Babette replied, her voice still choked with emotion.

Lumière kissed her forehead as he gathered her in his arms, carrying her to her room. "Trust me, he will not."

Babette rested her head on his shoulder, wearily. "Promise me instead that you did not do anything rash; promise me you will be here in the morning."

When they arrived at her room, Lumière tucked her under the covers affectionately, before resting on the bed behind her. Driven by the need to protect her, he gently enveloped her in his embrace.

"Do not worry, I am not going anywhere and neither are you."

Babette snuggled close to him, feeling more safe in his arms rather than under the blankets. "Don't ever leave me…"

"Never, mon amour; we will never be apart, I swear it."

"Je t'aime, Lumière," Babette murmured, before slipping into slumber.

Lumière kissed her cheek before following her.

"Je t'adore, ma chérie…"


	3. Part III Last Days

Part III – The Last Days…

_December 23rd…_

The quaint, provincial town of Molyneaux found itself thoroughly covered in a thick blanket of snow for the holiday season that year. The weather had been unnaturally cold and bitter the past few days, and what was normally a picturesque little village of rich, earthly colors and bustling crowds had become silent and white. Not one of the townsfolk were out and about unless they had to be, preferring to be inside rather than amidst the blizzard-worthy winds.

Royalty, however, was a different story.

"I say bless the weather," Vincent said, still sulking in his seat. "At least everyone is indoors, and I do not have to get close to them."

Cogsworth glanced from the young prince beside him to Lumière on the opposite seat, sharing a subtle disapproving look with the Frenchman. Vincent despised this annual trip to his uncle's holiday gala, and with each passing year, it became increasingly difficult to convince the lad to attend. The bribery of presents had worked for a while, but by age fifteen, it was not enough. It seemed that only sheer luck, and a mighty miracle, had gotten him in the carriage this time.

"Your highness, really, you must not say such things," Cogsworth attempted. "These villagers are your loyal subjects; they respect you."

"That just goes to show how incompetent the lot of you are," Vincent snarled. "If I was not their prince, not one of them would care about me. They show respect because they know I could have them imprisoned." His brows drew together in a scowl. "And I see that unlike them, _you _still haven't learned to hold your tongue and show the proper respect."

"I apologize for such carelessness," Cogsworth said meekly. "I was merely suggesting a different perspective on the situation to give the trip a much more pleasant atmosphere."

"It would be bearable if you shut your trap!" Vincent shouted, causing Cogsworth to cringe and lapse into silence.

Lumière shook his head after witnessing the scene before he resumed looking out the window absently. None of them enjoyed making this journey every year, but Cogsworth never failed to somehow make it worse than it had to be.

Home was where he should have been right now, Lumière thought with a sigh. There were other important matters that needed his attention, others he should be with. Babette would know tonight if it was true…

Suddenly, without warning, a cry was heard outside, and the carriage jolted to a stop.

"What on earth…?" Cogsworth exclaimed worriedly, as he and Lumière climbed out of the carriage, leaving Vincent, undaunted and uninterested by the stop, inside. The driver was calming the horses while an old beggar woman comforted a young girl with various items scattered at her feet.

"Curse this storm!" the driver cried. "I did not even see the poor thing coming!"

"Just thank heavens, monsieur, that you were able to stop in time," the woman said pointedly. "From what I saw, this could have ended much worse."

Cogsworth and Lumière quickly helped the girl gather her things.

"Are you all right, ma petite?" Lumière asked, handing over what he had collected. "You were not hurt?"

The girl shook her head, gradually coming out of her shock. "No, monsieur. I should have paid closer attention; I am so sorry!"

"Not at all! There was no harm done; everything was all right in the end."

Cogsworth gave her a book that had fallen from her basket. "But you should not be out on such a wretched day; it is not safe!" he added, his manner of scolding in contrast to Lumière's reassurance.

"I had to brave the weather," the girl explained insistently. "With all of our preparations, I nearly forgot to get my papa a gift. If I didn't get it today, I wouldn't have a chance before Christmas. Many of the shops close early tomorrow."

Lumière smiled compassionately at her. She was a beautiful child, hardly more than thirteen, he guessed, but it was clear that her inner beauty was even stronger than her outward.

"Where, may I ask, do you live, mademoiselle…?"

"Belle, monsieur. Our house is just over the hill there," she replied, pointing to a snow-covered hill in the distance.

"Very well, Mademoiselle Belle; surely we can spare you any more trouble with a ride home."

Cogsworth shot Lumière a warning glare when he was certain Belle could not see him do so, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by the reason for such an expression.

"No, absolutely not!" Vincent shouted angrily, his impatience drawing him out of the carriage just in time to hear the insolent invitation. "What do you think we are, Lumière? A charity?"

Lumière frowned. "Master, the young mademoiselle lives nearby; we will not stray off course in the slightest."

"The only way I will let this filthy peasant near my carriage is if she were to pull it alongside the horses!" Vincent sneered, glaring at Belle with disgust. "The answer is no!"

Belle bit her lip angrily, trying to be the better person. Her father had always told her if she could not say anything nice, she should not say anything at all, and with that in mind, she knew it was best to remain silent.

It was then that the old woman stepped forward. "I will see to it that she gets home safely, messieurs," she said to Cogsworth and Lumière. "As you said, this is not the safest day to be traveling, and you should be going on your way as well before the weather gets worse."

"That's right," Vincent replied coldly. "Let the gutter rats stick together."

The old woman lifted her hood to get a good look at him, and Vincent openly cringed with revulsion upon seeing her unpleasant, disfigured face clearly.

"Although a young prince has all the time in the world, among many other wonderful things that he takes for granted," she said. "Many of us are much less fortunate. Perhaps one day, he will change his mind when it comes to deciding who deserves his attention more: himself or others."

Vincent's jaw dropped in shock, not to mention those of Cogsworth and Lumière. "You loathsome hag, how dare you!" he cried. "Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking?"

"Yes, your highness," she replied calmly. "And come the future, I do believe we shall speak again."

Before Vincent or anyone could reply, the woman took the girl under her cloak and began to lead her home, allowing the travelers to continue on their way.

ooo

_December 24th, Christmas Eve…_

The following day, the carriage returned to Vincent's castle. _Home sweet home, and not a moment too soon_, Lumière thought, most likely along with his master and companion. Having been forced to stay in Auguste's palace till the storm died down, the trio did not hesitate from jumping out of the carriage as quickly as possible, grateful to be back.

When Vincent was settled comfortably in his rooms, he dismissed both of his servants, demanding that he be left alone until midnight. It was not unusual after all; this was annual routine after a visit to Auguste. None of the pathetic, phony kindness attempts that his uncle made during their holiday visits could ever convince Vincent that the man enjoyed having him around. He knew the truth.

Damn those childish stories he had heard as a boy; they were all silly fairy tales. Christmas did nothing to bring his pathetic excuse for a family together, nor did it give him a sense of peace. Once again, he was alone, with only his servants downstairs, too caught up in their own pleasures to worry about him right now.

"Merry Christmas to all indeed," he sneered angrily to himself, staring into the fire, lost in his wandering thoughts.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the servants' wing, Cogsworth was making his usual holiday speech, which sounded jovial and interesting in his mind, but only in his. Many were too busy trying to stay awake to listen, while others eyed the refreshments of celebration. The staff was a family in this castle, and around this festive time of year, they wholeheartedly made that feeling of friendship known. Besides, Christmas was truly the only time of year they could celebrate amongst themselves without Vincent interfering, and they certainly intended to make good use of it.

"Therefore, in conclusion…"

A select daring few, led by Lumière, cheered at those words, their exclamations ranging from "At last!" to "Thank goodness!" Cogsworth frowned at their impudence before he continued.

"In conclusion, onto the merriment and a happy Christmas to everyone!"

In one corner of the room, a small number of servants took up instruments from fiddles to concertinas and fifes, happily beginning to play as the crowd dispersed to form their own little groups. Some danced while others enjoyed the company of friends. The children kept themselves busy chasing one another around the room, all of them unable to contain their excitement, for they knew the next morning would hopefully find a few trinkets and gifts waiting for them.

Lumière, however, kept surprisingly to himself after Cogsworth reminded him for the billionth time to be in the throne room at midnight to present Vincent with his gifts from the staff. Amidst trying to remain cool and collected, he could not help but notice some of the younger girls whispering to each other and glancing at him. Normally, this would bring him a sense of relaxation and good humor, but while he simply acknowledged them with his charming smile (much to their delight), he was still not himself. Frankly, it was frightening how unnatural he felt, but it could not be helped. Babette was nowhere to be found; she should have been here by now…

"Flirting away the hour when you think I can not see you?"

Lumière whirled around upon hearing his beloved's voice, mirroring Babette's playful smirk in full. At last, a bit of relief to delight in, even if it would not last long.

"What else could I do to pass the time?" he asked. "You certainly know how to keep a man in suspense, and I had to occupy myself somehow." Slipping his arms around her waist at her more than willing approval, he nuzzled her gently below her ear, whispering as he added, "What did he say?"

Babette ignored the question, pouting. "Occupy yourself, my foot; they obviously enjoyed the attention."

"You have nothing to fear; that particular bunch is much too young for me."

"Ah, but you still obliged them."

Lumière skillfully moved behind her, his lips traveling downward to the curve of her neck as his hand caressed her middle in subtle curiosity.

"You are stalling, ma bijou," he said. "Now I have been a wreck since I left yesterday with Cogsworth and the master. What is the verdict?"

Babette did not answer, and Lumière felt her tense, certainly not in the way she usually did under his romantic ministrations. Turning her gently to face him, he held her gaze seriously, concern abundant in his eyes.

"Amour?" he murmured softly. "What did the doctor say?"

Babette grasped his hand, leading Lumière to a nearby sitting room, after she was sure no one was paying them any heed. As she made her way to the chaise, Lumière locked the door before turning to find her crying softly. That alone answered his question. Deeming himself the strongest of the pair for now, he raced to her side, holding her comfortingly.

"All right, ma chérie," he whispered. "Shh, no more tears, I beg you. I swear, after all this holiday madness is over, I will make all the necessary arrangements."

"Lumière…"

"No one will have to know," he said nervously. "We will go about this quietly; that will be best."

"But Lumière…"

"And after all," he laughed shakily, trying to make her follow suit. "Even if someone did find out, everyone already thinks of us as a married couple, oui? What with all the many times we argue and complain and…"

"Lumière, je ne suis pas enceinte!" she interrupted loudly, before quieting herself with caution. "I am not expecting; we are not having a baby. Stop making any plans because there is no reason for them!" she continued angrily, rather sarcastically. "Never fear, we can continue about our romancing just as we always did, and most likely, always will!"

That being said, she jumped from the chaise, crossing the room with her back to him as the tears remained obvious in her eyes.

Lumière, on the other hand, took a moment to sort out his sudden attack of confusion.

"Help me understand, if you will," he said softly. "You…are not expecting?"

She shook her head in confirmation.

"And…you are upset about that?"

She sighed and shrugged.

"Babette, come sit down," Lumière murmured gently, offering his embrace to comfort her as she did as she was asked. A soft sigh escaped her once she snuggled into his arms, her safe haven where she knew everything would turn out for the best no matter how horrible the situation.

"Talk to me, chérie," Lumière insisted tenderly. "Yesterday, you were so afraid that it was true. Now when we know the truth that you are not…you are still upset? What brought this on?"

"Is it so bad to hope for?"

"No," he answered honestly. "Not at all, but I do not understand."

"I barely understand it myself," Babette said quietly, absently playing with the buttons on his coat. "I am happy to remain as we are, I mean it." She finally looked him in the eye, and he almost began to cry himself at the pitiful sight. "I know we always thought why change perfection, so to speak, but we are not getting any younger, Lumière. We already act like we should be married, you said so yourself, but I want it to be true. I thought that if I was expecting, it would happen."

Lumière nodded in understanding, but his expression remained serious. "That is not the best reason to have a baby, amour."

"I know," she replied solemnly. "I guess I do want one, someday, but a child is not accepted by others when born to an unwed couple. We both know that; God knows we have had one scare too many because of that fact."

Lumière was silent for a moment, too long for her liking, and Babette grew worried.

"You are angry with me, mon cher? Did I upset you?"

Lumière smiled reassuringly, kissing her forehead with utmost affection. "Not in the slightest," he answered before putting her at arms' length. "But tell me truthfully; is that what you want? To be married, possibly with a family, I mean?"

Babette nodded, relieved. "Very much."

Lumière's grin grew as he took a small ring from his finger, and placed it on her own. "I am glad I decided to get this then. It is not much, I know, but I wanted to be sure I had a gift for the baby, if there was to be one. But I am even happier that it is still the best present I could give you. Like I said, once this seasonal insanity is long gone, we shall see about following through with a wedding; you have my word."

A smile played about her lips as Babette asked softly, "You really mean it?"

"But of course I mean it!" Lumière laughed. "I never say anything I do not mean, you know that."

Babette raised a challenging eyebrow, but Lumière silenced her unspoken words with a kiss.

"So, what say you?" he asked, unwillingly prying his lips away.

Babette smiled happily, allowing the kiss to continue before she embraced him tightly.

"Yes," she whispered. "A thousand times, yes…with all my heart."

ooo

_Christmas Eve: Midnight…_

The storm took a turn for the worse later that night. Its power had increased tenfold over the last few hours, and the wind and snow whipped against the castle's window panes, as if trying to force their way inside. In the silence, it was quite an eerie sound.

Vincent sat on his massive throne surrounded by the grandest of gifts, but the deadly grimace on his face was a clear sign to the servants that he was dissatisfied. No, they did not expect otherwise from their master, but every year, they hoped that the spirit of the season would perhaps bring out the best that they knew was hiding within him. Perhaps one day he would recognize their hard work in acquiring such presents, but despite the growing quantity each year, their prince still was not content.

Cogsworth stepped forward from the others present, namely Mrs. Potts and Lumière.

"Master?" he asked cautiously, forcing Lumière to move with him for protection. He had not forgotten the previous Christmas Eve when the slightest word made him Vincent's official target for gift-throwing. "Will there be anything else before you go to bed?"

Vincent did not even raise his gaze from a pocket watch chain he was toying with.

"Did you plan on leaving the castle this very second to get anything else?" the prince asked.

Cogsworth hesitated, as if searching for the safest answer, before he shook his head. "Not necessarily, your grace, but if that is what you wish…"

"Then that idiotic question was rather pointless, wasn't it?" Vincent shouted in interruption, grimacing at him.

Lumière suppressed his typical eye roll as Cogsworth hid behind him. "Master, please," he said, only the slightest bit more brave than his comrade. "Is there truly anything else you need?"

Vincent scowled at him. "Yes, peace and quiet. No one is to disturb me for the remainder of the evening. Breakfast shall be ready at dawn, or else."

In the silence that lingered in the room after the servants left him, Vincent sat lost in his pondering. His mind often drifted like this when he was alone; it was truly the only time he found where he could concentrate without anyone to bother him. But while it was a blessing, it was also a curse.

His foremost thought, especially around the holidays, was constantly of the parents he never had. Since they had died when he was an infant, Vincent had no recollection of them. The only way he knew what they looked like was from their portraits hanging in the castle. Those portraits and his horrible childhood nightmares that still frightened him to this day were all he knew of them.

Fear. If his uncle taught Vincent anything worth memorizing, it was that fear was a weakness, one that could easily be used against him. Fear brought a man down, and therefore, Vincent told no one of the dreams that still haunted him, and he never would. He was the prince, heir to the throne of France; he had to be strong and powerful! No one would have the satisfaction of seeing him afraid of anything.

But when he was alone, all that changed; no one could see him; no one could comfort him…

_In the distance, he saw two people, a man and a woman, whom the lad recognized as his parents. Joyfully, he raced to their sides, embracing them tightly…_

_But they were so cold, so lifeless. Vincent looked into their eyes, daring to speak to them._

"_Maman? Papa?"_

_Their stares bore accusingly into him, and he slowly backed away while a voice resounded in his ears._

"_It is your fault; if it were not for you, they would still be alive. It is your fault!"_

Snapping awake in his chair, Vincent looked around nervously, gaining his senses back gradually as he breathed deeply to calm his rapidly beating heart. Rising from the seat tiredly, he rubbed his eyes, exasperated. He would not stay there. If his mind was going to play these tricks on him, then he preferred to be in his room where no one could hear or see him. The last thing he wanted was the servants' ridiculous attempts at sympathy.

On his way to the West Wing, however, Vincent heard voices coming from the foyer. Clearly some were that of the servants, but one he did not recognize. So late, and still there was trouble! Deciding to put an end to the meeting, he made his way downstairs, listening as he did.

"Madam, please!" he heard Cogsworth say insistently. "You must understand; the master will see no one!"

"I must see him, monsieur; just for a moment I beg you!"

Finally able to see the intruder, Vincent snarled, recognizing her as the beggar from the village.

"What is the meaning of this impertinence?" he cried. "Who let this old bag of bones into my castle?"

The old woman stepped forward shakily from the servants' grasp, leaning heavily on her walking stick as she bowed her head in respect of authority.

"Your highness, do not punish them for my humble request," she said, coughing fitfully to clear her throat.

Vincent stared at her, repulsed. "What could you possibly want here, hag?"

"I was hoping that you could give me a warm bed for the night. It is freezing outside, too much so even for a poor old beggar like me."

"I see," Vincent snarled. "And just how do you expect to repay me? I do not give anything so valuable away for nothing. You will earn your stay."

The woman searched her cloak before she withdrew a delicate budding red rose. "All I have is this, your grace," she said, holding it out to him as if it were the most fragile object on earth. "I know it is not much, but please take it as a token of my thanks."

Vincent raised an eyebrow before laughing mockingly. "A rose? Are you serious? The very idea, a rose in exchange for my hospitality! Go on your way, hag; I will not have such revolting filth polluting my castle!"

The woman frowned but remained steadfast. "True beauty is only found within, your highness; never be deceived by outward appearances."

Vincent glared at her angrily. "Then take your precious inner beauty elsewhere and leave me in peace! You will not find any shelter here and that is my final word." He then turned his servants. "Remove this useless wretch from my presence; if she does not go willingly, let her spend Christmas in the dungeons!"

The woman steadfastly, defiantly, held her ground as the servants tried to show her out. Vincent stepped forward then, intending to show her who the master of his castle was, but when he approached her, she began to shimmer. The servants jumped back at the reaction, as did their master. The woman then stood straight and tall, her cloak flying away suddenly to reveal a beautiful young woman in the old beggar's place.

"What…what witchcraft is this?" Vincent stuttered. To hell with not hiding fear; this was not a dream, but reality. "What do you want from me?"

"Silence," she commanded, her angelic voice free from any sign of illness. For the first time in his life, Vincent obeyed orders of another higher presence.

"I have seen all that I needed to see, young prince," she continued. "It is clear that there is no love in your heart. You demand respect rather than rightfully earn it. You could not show kindness to anyone, not even an innocent little girl!"

Falling to his knees, Vincent pleaded desperately. "Please, forgive me! Take any room you wish! If only I had known!"

"You still do not understand," she said, shaking her head in dismay. "This is so much more serious than a room, your grace. I warned you. Simply because beauty is absent on the outside does not mean that it is not on the inside. You did not heed my words, and you still do not. You are no better than a savage beast that roams these woods, and therefore you shall become one."

Vincent persisted in his pleas, but the enchantress paid him no attention. In her hand formed a glistening orb of light, which she threw at the terrified prince, and a mist enveloped him like a twisted cocoon. Instantly, he felt the agonizing effects of his transformation as his bones wrenched and reformed themselves. He felt tufts of fur covering him in great masses, and his clothes tore to shreds as his entire body doubled in size. As he screamed in pain, his voice now an intimidating roar, sharp fangs jutted out from behind his swelling bottom lip, and horns formed on his head. When the mist cleared, he glanced at a nearby mirror to see that he had indeed become a huge, horrific beast.

The servants stood by in stunned shock for a moment, hardly believing that this was reality! Once his mind had settled, Cogsworth pulled Lumière in front of him, the pair daring to move forward, as Mrs. Potts and Babette watched in horror.

"You…you can not do this to the master," Cogsworth said, so meekly that the enchantress had to suppress a grin.

"I have simply done what none of you ever did: taught him a lesson," she replied, truthfully.

As Cogsworth and Lumière approached the beast prince, who was mewling like a wounded animal, Vincent glanced at them. His eyes, still a pristine, brilliant shade of blue despite his new hideous form, begged silently, "Help me!" For the first time in a long time, he was once against the scared little boy he had been years ago.

"Can this be undone?" Lumière asked.

The enchantress nodded, once again holding her rose, which now glistened with a gentle light. "Of course it can. This rose is enchanted, and it will bloom for many years; before the last petal falls, he must learn to love another, and earn their love in return."

"Very well then," Cogsworth said with a nod. "We shall find this person at once!"

"Not so fast," the enchantress said. "The prince has refused all help in the past; he shall have none now."

Slowly backing away, not taking a liking to the look in her eyes, Cogsworth and Lumière found themselves once again at Mrs. Potts and Babette's side, and the group huddled together fearfully.

"What exactly do you mean?" Lumière asked slowly.

The enchantress raised her hands, glowing intensely, and suddenly throughout the castle, screams of pain and fear could be heard.

"Mere household objects to please him, that is all he saw you to be," she said. "Not one of you ever tried to move beyond that. Your actions could have influenced him, but you shirked your responsibility. Therefore, I place the spell on the entire castle."

The mist erupted from the floor, at last encircling its final four victims. The servants cried out in anguish as they felt an uncomfortable sensation surging through them. Watching in terror, they found themselves beginning to become different…well, things!

Cogsworth, ever the punctual, obeying man, gasped as he found himself with a pendulum within his chest. His thin moustache pointed at odd angles like arrows.

Mrs. Potts, the warm, caring mother, cried out as her skirts became one with her, rounding out to the very bottom. One arm stiffened into a spout while the other twisted into a handle.

Lumière winced as his posture straightened, his entire body becoming metallic. He looked up to find that his hands had disappeared, giving way to two stalks of wax…or more specifically candles.

Babette felt the same feeling of posture, but instead of metal, she felt as though she were made of wood. The low trim of her skirts blossomed with an abundance of feathers.

When all had cleared, they stared at each other in disbelief, finding respectively in place of each other, a clock, a teapot, a candelabra, and a feather duster. But at the same time, they looked much more human than expected.

"I realize that you feared retribution if you defied your master," the enchantress said, answering their unspoken questions. "Therefore, I will show a little mercy."

"You call this mercy?" Cogsworth cried. "Look at what your work has done to us!"

The enchantress did not argue. "Over time, you will become more and more like objects. By the time the rose begins to wilt, you will not look as human as you do now, but your time is as short as that of your prince. His breaking the spell is just as important to you as it is to him."

Turning to Vincent, she took a small mirror from her flowing dress and handed it, along with the rose, to him. "Before I depart, I will leave you with a gift, your highness. This mirror will show you any part of the world you wish to see, from within the castle walls to the ends of the earth. Look well when you use it, for it is a world that you can no longer be a part of."

Vincent glared at her, angered at all she had taken from him, but not willing to speak out for fear of ruining himself any more than he had already done.

When she received no words from him, the enchantress bowed. "I bid you farewell then, Beast, and I truly hope for your safe return to the human world, for your own sake."

And in a flash, she was gone, leaving them all in a state of despair.

* * *

_A/N: Firstly a HUGE thank you to reviewers namely TrudiRose, Fairly Odd, Knux, Dutch FF-lover, 2rosedark, Lyssa, shortstef, BookRose, Lyndsi05, leotabelle13, nikkibelle18, and Imaginarylady, (I hope that's everyone; if I missed I'm sorry). Thank you SO much! Personally: Lyndsi05 - you will be happy to know that an upcoming fic of mine in the works is solely about a new spell that will hopefully teach Cogs and Lumi a lesson. So there will be PLENTY of Cogs for you to enjoy soon. leotabelle13 - hun,I promise you, reviews for your new story (congrats on the account, btw!)are coming. Please don't wait for me on the other one though. With work and trying to finish this one, it is a lot on my plate. Bear with me, but don't wait for me. Only thing: Babette, not Brigitte, LOL :-). Imaginarylady - did he really do that to Babette? Yes, I was there with my digital camera, LOL. I'm kidding. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't; that's the beauty of fanfiction. And I totally agree, Babs is stunning, if a little impossible according to the bodily rules of physics, LOL!_

_Secondly, I know I said three parts, but YES there is more to come, I swear. An epilogue of closure with a surprise "Romance" guest appearance. So PLEASE stay tuned. I'm trying to write and fine tune it some more, but it IS coming. This is NOT over._


	4. Epilogue

_Quick A/N: Something I forgot to tell in the last chapter guys, stupidly even AFTER I had to revise some typos. This story, like my others, is musical based, so that is why the descriptions of the objects are basically those of humanoid ones, k? Just wanted to let you all know. My love and thanks to the reviewers and the workshop, I love you all! For now, everyone enjoy the guest appearance epilogue and the final tale of Prelude!_

Epilogue

_Three months later…_

Any journey through the Black Forest was never one to look forward to, but nonetheless, Lucien de Bontecou insisted on making it. Already half way through March, and still not one New Year's prank from Lumière; that alone should have been a sign that something was not right. His friend never forgot the annual exchange. When Lucien wrote to see if all was well, and Lumière did not respond, Lucien's concern only grew, deciding that he had to see for himself what was wrong.

Inside the moving carriage, Lucien pulled his coat tightly around him. Despite the warmer weather, there was a chill in the air at night, making the forest even more unwelcoming than it usually was. In the distance, he saw a pack of wolves eyeing the carriage, picking up the scent of visitors to their territory. One wolf, apparently the leader, dangerously narrowed its seemingly glowing yellow eyes at him, as if warning the travelers to turn around and leave. It was enough to send a shiver down Lucien's spine; thankfully they were almost there.

But suddenly, without warning, the carriage halted, and Lucien climbed out to see what the cause was.

"Alphonse?" he said to his driver. "Why have we stopped?"

"Pardon, Monsieur le Vicomte," the old man replied, examining the gate. "There are no locks on it, but it will not budge!"

With Alphonse's help, Lucien put all his strength into an attempt to force the gate open, but still, it would not do so. Not a good thing, he realized, for not far behind them, the wolf pack had followed, each member growling menacingly. The wolves had not taken kindly to the strangers, and they obviously planned to make this perfectly clear as they prowled towards Lucien and Alphonse.

Immediately, the carriage horses began pawing their hooves on the ground, whinnying in discomfort by the wolves' presence. Lucien and Alphonse quickly gave the gate one last strong shove, to which it surprisingly flew open as if light as a feather, and the pair fell onto the castle grounds. Jumping up quickly to grab the anxious horses' reins, the men pulled them inside before racing to shut the gate. Just in time as well, for the moment they did, the wolves pounced to attack, stopped only mere inches away from them when the gate was closed.

Lucien let out a relieved breath before turning to his driver. "Are you all right, Alphonse?" he asked, concerned. "Not hurt, are you?"

"Non, monsieur, I am fine," Alphonse assured him. "They simply gave me a fright."

Lucien nodded, turning to the castle's entrance, but stopped short at the sight before him. The few times he had gone there over the years, he knew that it had never looked anything like it did now, even in the darkness. Vines climbed the walls, and in the place of the ever-present angel statues now stood those of odious monsters. The grounds were silent, unnatural considering the fact that there were normally various servants about, but now the palace seemed deserted. Nonetheless, a faint light near the doors signaled that people had to be inside.

"Perhaps this is not a good time for a visit," Alphonse muttered quietly, but Lucien shook his head in disagreement.

"This will not take long," he said. "I am certain that his highness will understand. Tie up the horses, and then meet me back here."

Alphonse did as he was told before rejoining his master, and the pair entered slowly, finding the doors shockingly unlocked. Inside, the castle was just as uninviting as its new façade. What in the world had happened to it? If the atmosphere had been at least a little bit pleasant, Lucien would have made it a point to scold Babette teasingly for her lack of responsibility, but this was no laughing matter. The rugs were worn and dusty; cobwebs were everywhere in sight. They could not duck their heads low enough or lift their feet high enough to avoid them. And as with the statues outside, those in the hallways had also been changed to hideous creatures.

Lucien cautiously glanced into each room and hall they had passed, but apparently, the castle was indeed deserted. A few times he could have sworn he heard voices, gasps, the scuffing of shoes or sweeping of skirts, but it must have been ghosts. There was no one to be found anywhere.

As they approached one remaining staircase, Lucien stopped hesitantly, remembering a previous visit when Lumière had informed him that this led to the prince's chambers. No one was allowed to enter the wing without being summoned, but Lucien, while never one to blatantly disregard the prince's wishes, deemed it necessary to do so. Therefore, gesturing Alphonse to follow, Lucien climbed the forbidden stairs. At the end of the corridor, he knocked on the doors, but received no answer.

"Do you really think this is wise, monsieur?" Alphonse asked, obviously uncomfortable with his master's decision.

"For the sake of the search, I daresay it is," Lucien replied, pulling on the door handle slowly.

Inside, the men were shocked at what they found. Despite a beautiful rose at the center of the room, what was expected to be a room fit for royalty was a disastrous sty! Furniture was overturned; bed cloths torn to shreds. On the far wall was a portrait of Vincent that had been…clawed? Considering the odd angles of the slash marks, Lucien could have sworn an animal of some kind had ripped it apart.

Behind him, Alphonse pointed to the floor, crying out, "Monsieur le Vicomte, look!"

Lucien took a fearful step backwards at the sight: gray, gnarled bones strewn about the floor near the bed. Someone…no, _something_, was in the castle, and God knows what else it could have done.

Unfortunately, it did not take long for them to find out exactly what that "something" was…

Noticing Alphonse cringing in horror as he stared over his master's shoulder, Lucien asked, "Alphonse? Alphonse, what is it?"

The poor man was too petrified to utter a sound. With a trembling hand, he pointed at something behind Lucien. When Lucien turned around, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he looked into the face of a terrifying beast!

"What are you doing here?" the creature growled, coming towards them on all fours before towering over them on its hindquarters like a man. "What do you want?"

Lucien had never considered himself a coward, but the sight of such an unbelievable monster was enough to change that consideration for now. At ten feet tall when standing on its wolf-like legs, it was more fearsome and intimidating than a bear, with sharp horns and the wickedest-looking fangs Lucien had ever seen!

Terrified, Lucien's voice shook as he spoke. "W-what…what have y-you done to the prince?"

The Beast's eyes narrowed on the torn portrait before he covered his face, as if ashamed.

"The prince?" he growled, but anger flashed in his eyes as he reared his head moments later and roared. "The prince is dead! Unless you wish to join him, I suggest you get out!"

The men held their ground for a minute, petrified, which only enraged the Beast more as he took the action as defiance.

"I said get out! Now! Leave me alone!" he shouted, smashing a chair to splinters with his massive paw.

That was all it took to snap the pair out of their stunned state of mind. If the creature could destroy a chair in one swipe, they did not want to find out what he could do to a man.

Racing down the stairs, the Beast's roars resounding in their ears, Lucien said breathlessly, "We must get home and send for help! Who knows what that monster is capable of if he lives? He must be destroyed!"

Once they reached the foyer, Lucien felt his feet fly out from underneath him as he tripped, his face harshly greeting the floor as he fell. Trying to rise, he heard a familiar voice whisper, "Leaving so soon?" Turning to see who it was, Lucien gasped as he found a cloaked Lumière waiting for him.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, we must hurry!" Alphonse shouted behind him, causing Lumière to hide in a small corridor, his expression pleading for silence.

Lucien's brow furrowed in confusion, but nonetheless, he nodded discreetly before he called out, feigning pain, "Go on, Alphonse! I will get there as fast as I can! Do not worry about me!"

With obvious hesitation, Alphonse did as he was told, leaving Lucien to follow Lumière into a dark sitting room.

"What on earth is going on here?" Lucien asked, cutting right to the chase. "If this is your idea of a prank, I bow down at your feet and beg you to stop! I have had enough after first seeing that…that…_THAT_, and now I have no idea why you do not want to be seen!"

Lumière pulled the cloak around himself tightly, self-consciously. "Trust me, mon ami, I wish this was only a prank."

"Then _what_ is it?" Lucien persisted.

Lumière took a deep breath. "This will be a terrible shock to you. But you must believe what you see; I swear this is not a trick."

"Lumière, after what I just saw upstairs, nothing will ever shock me again."

Lumière sighed. "I would not say that just yet," he said, letting the cloak fall as he lit his newfound candle hands. Reaching to light the fireplace, he turned to glance at Lucien, who, as expected, was stunned.

Lucien instinctively retreated a few steps. He knew he was looking at his friend, but at the same time, someone...no, once again, some thing...completely different. If he had not seen the Beast just moments ago, Lucien would have thought Lumière was wearing a masquerade costume that much resembled the unlit candelabra on the table. Lumière's clothes had turned to solid metal, his face pale and hair turned white, as if made of wax. Most noticeably, his hands were gone, and in their place were two sconces holding brightly lit candles.

Lumière could only offer him a half-hearted grin at Lucien's bewilderment. "Told you so," he added.

"Oh mon Dieu," Lucien muttered, eyeing his friend fearfully. "What in hell happened to you? To this entire castle?"

In a fraction of the time it took to occur, Lumière told him in great detail about what had happened on Christmas Eve. The enchantress, the transformation, and the ultimatum she had set. Lucien could only shake his head in disbelief; this was unreal!

"Madness," he said when Lumière finished. "Utter madness…"

"I know it is," Lumière replied. "But I have never been more sane in my entire life, you know that. What I have said is the truth, I swear on my parents' graves."

"And all of you have become…things?" Lucien asked. "Even…?"

Lumière nodded. "Even her."

"What object is she?"

Lumière could not help smile, mildly amused in spite of the situation. "A feather duster; quite appropriate, I think."

Lucien mirrored his expression. "Where is she now?"

Lumière shook his head. "I guarantee you, she will not show herself. Babette has…not grown accustomed to this just yet, so to speak."

There was an uncomfortable silence, humor not easing the matter at hand as Lumière had intended.

Lucien then offered reassuringly, "Mon ami, if there was anything I can do to help, you know I will."

"I know," Lumière responded sadly. "But there is little that can be done, except pray."

"I will, every day and night." Lucien thought for a moment before he asked, "What shall I tell everyone at home?"

"Nothing," Lumière answered sharply. "Even if there was anyone worth telling, you can not say a word of this to anyone."

"But what will people think?"

"Missing, dead, I do not care," Lumière insisted. "For once, I am grateful that my father passed away last year, leaving no one to worry about me."

"But there are others with family, Lumière," Lucien said. "There must be some way we can let them know their loved ones are at least alive."

Lumière shook his head. "No, you must swear to me that you will say nothing, Lucien; neither you nor Alphonse can tell another soul about anything you have seen. Do what you must, but for all the times I have lied for you, you must now do the same for me."

"But…"

"Think of it this way," Lumière interrupted. "If you do, you might as well have sentenced us to death. If we did not have this chance to talk, what would you have done? Ordered armed men to kill the master? One word gets out that a monster has taken over the prince's castle, and mobs will be at our doorstep. If he dies, then there is no chance for our survival. No one can know about this, Lucien; swear to me, as my most trusted friend, that neither of you will repeat this to anyone."

Lucien sighed. Lumière was right after all, and thus, Lucien unwillingly agreed, "Très bien, you have my word."

As both friends reached to shake in agreement, they suddenly retracted hand and candle in saddened realization of the danger in their action, merely deciding on a nod instead.

"Give Nicolette my best…somehow, I mean," Lumière said quietly.

"Likewise to Babette," Lucien replied as Lumière promised he would. Lucien then turned about to leave before glancing at his friend one last time. "I will send Alphonse with any news from the château, for some sense of sanity if any."

"I would appreciate that, very much," Lumière answered with a grin.

"Just promise me one thing," Lucien asked.

"Name it."

Lucien took a deep breath. "You will never give up hope, comprends? Ever. Fight through this and take care of yourself and the others. You are my best friend, my brother even, and it would take a lot more than a spell to end that."

Lumière could only nod, because for once in his life, he was speechless.

And that being said, Lucien left the castle, his heart saddened despite his words of encouragement. For he realized then that their lives may never be the same again.

ooo

The mysterious loss of the crowned prince Vincent and his entire staff was a great shock to all of France. For some time, Auguste had ordered numerous searches, but each one failed to provide any explanation. Some of the men had never reached the castle, thanks to the unusual increase of wolf packs. Others had returned with no memory of what they had seen, and whatever evidence they had found to remind them had vanished from their sacks without a trace.

By the end of the year, the young prince and his servants were officially proclaimed deceased, and the disappearance soon became a forgotten legend, the abandoned castle in the Château Mountains being the only testament to their existence.

**The End**


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